


Warmth

by elumish



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s02e02 In the Line of Duty, F/M, Friendship, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elumish/pseuds/elumish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack O’Neill found Carter sleeping in her car in his driveway at two in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pretending

Jack O’Neill found Carter sleeping in her car in his driveway at two in the morning. She was sitting in the driver’s seat, fully upright, her seatbelt off, her head leaning against the window. If the car hadn’t been off and it hadn’t been parked outdoors, he would have thought she was trying to kill herself, and that wasn’t a thought he could bear having.

Slipping on shoes and a USAF sweatshirt because he probably shouldn’t wake Carter up bare-chested, he walked out to her car, rapping a knuckle on the window across from her head. She started so sharply that, if he hadn’t spent the past year watching her in combat situations, he would have thought she hadn’t been sleeping at all.

Carter blinked at him twice, then rolled down her window, staring up at him. She looked exhausted, little better than she had lying in the infirmary, refusing to look at any of them or even acknowledge that they were there. Not until Cassie.

“Carter?”

Another blink. “Sir?”

“What are you doing in my driveway at”—he checked his watch—“oh-two-twenty?”

“Sorry, sir.”

It wasn’t an answer, and the fact that she seemed to be having such a hard time was honestly worrying. The SGC psychologist had ordered another three days of leave before her next psych eval, but given the way she was reacting now, like she had no idea what was going on, she might need more than that. “I’m looking for an answer, Carter, not an apology.”

Her back straightened slightly. “Yes, sir. I—my house is empty, sir.”

“That’s generally what happens when you’re not in it.”

Now her head dipped down, which usually meant that she was either unhappy or trying to hide a smile. Given the situation, he had a feeling he knew which one it was. “Yes, sir. But it’s…I couldn’t sit in an empty house, sir, not right now. I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts.”

“So you thought my driveway was a better place?”

“I didn’t want to bother Daniel, and Teal’c on base and I couldn’t stay there anymore, and…I wasn’t planning on bothering you, sir. I just…it’s easier to sleep when someone’s there.”

He understood that, probably better than she knew. For a while after Iraq, he couldn’t sleep in the same bed as Sarah, but at the same time it was a comfort to know that someone was there, that he wasn’t totally alone. “Come on, Carter.”

Another couple of blinks, and she looked somewhere between day three of sleep deprivation and abject confusion. It was a feeling he knew all too well. “Sir?”

Jack reached in and unlocked the door, the pulled it open; she wobbled slightly, having been resting some of her weight on it. “I’m not going to leave you to sleep in my driveway. Come on, you can take the couch.” And then he might get some sleep, too, knowing that she was safe. After seeing her with her eyes glowing, all he could imagine was Kawalsky, the back of his head gone, that thing disintegrating a few inches away. And he hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it. Again.

She hesitated, then climbed out of the car, forcing him to step back so she didn’t end up pressed against him. Because that would be a bad idea for more reasons than he wanted to think about. She was unsteady on her feet, almost as bad as he had ever seen her, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to keep her from falling.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Can’t let you fall and break something, can I?”

She glanced up at him, and their faces were probably closer than they should be. “Wasn’t what I meant, sir.”

“I know, Carter.” He shoved her door closed, then then the two of them made their way back into his house, where he led her over to the couch. She sank down onto it, curling up against the side with her knees pulled up, looking so much like a lost child that for a moment Jack’s heart hurt. “You need anything?”

Carter shook her head, her arms tightening perceptibly on her legs. She wasn’t looking at him now, her gaze fixed somewhere on the floor behind him, and he wasn’t sure how much of that was exhaustion and how much was something else. 

“See you in the morning.” And then, because he couldn’t keep staring at his second-in-command sitting on his couch like a scared little girl, he turned and started walking away. In fact, he made it all the way to his bedroom door before stopping, his hand touching on the knob. He had to turn it, had to walk into his bedroom and go to sleep and pretend that she wasn’t in his house right now. Pretend that those hadn’t been tears he’d seen in her eyes. Pretend that he hadn’t almost watched her die a few days earlier and then wake to near-catatonia. Pretend that—

Screw that. Spinning on his heel, Jack turned and walked back to his living room, grabbing a blanket from his linen closet that he never used as he went. That was a good excuse, that she needed a blanket. It was the nice thing to do.

Carter was still sitting in the same position when she came into view, still staring at the floor, holding herself so tightly it was like she was afraid if she let go she was going to break. He had held himself like that before, after Iraq. She didn’t look up when he approached, didn’t move when he spread the blanket out on her. It wasn’t until he sat down on the couch next to her, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind her head, that she met his eye. 

“Sir?”

“Come here.”

There was a hesitation, this one probably more about propriety and regulations than her exhausted brain struggling to process what he was saying, and then she tilted her body towards his, resting against his side and spreading the blanket across his knees.

Warmth spread through him, and he told himself it was just because of body heat and a blanket and had nothing to do with whose body heat it was. And if he curled his arm around her shoulders, it was just because it was more comfortable than having it hang there.

And when she started shaking and a wet spot started spreading across the chest of his sweatshirt, he didn’t say anything. Because if he couldn’t have protected her from being taken over by a Goa’uld, he could damn well let her cry with dignity. 

Sometime later, her shaking slowed, then stopped, and her body went limp against his, her breath a steady spot of warmth. And he held her, wishing that he could change the past and knowing that there was nothing he could do.


	2. Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was only with someone else that she could tell what was real.

Sam woke sprawled across a sofa she didn’t recognize, covered by a blanket she didn’t remember being put on her, and for a second all she could think was that she was still trapped in Jolinar’s head, memories that weren’t hers blending with reality until she couldn’t tell which was which.

But she could smell coffee, and Jolinar didn’t know coffee, so this was real. She was in an unknown location without access to her gun, but it was probably on Earth—they had never encountered coffee naturally off-world—which meant that she just needed to get access to a phone or a car and she would be fine.

She eased onto her back, untangling her limbs from the blanket as quietly as possible so as not to alert whoever was holding her that she was awake. It looked like a house, simple but relatively clean. There were windows nearby, and they looked like they opened to a residential area. That meant plenty of civilians nearby, and as long as there weren’t too many to take out, she should be able to get free.

There were noises nearby, some sort of hissing or sizzling, but she couldn’t tell what it was from her position. Rolling to her feet, she crouched low, trying to find something she could use as a weapon. There was nothing obvious nearby, but she should be able to find something.

The counter near the couch held framed photographs—odd, such identifying marks for whoever was holding her, but the whole situation was odd—but she didn’t examine them beyond to notice a small boy in one. They weren’t useful weapons; they weren’t worth her concentration.

A gray-haired man in a sweatshirt and jeans, his feet bare, stood in front of a stove, and he didn’t seem to notice her as she approached. There were knives, but she would need to get past him to get to them, and she needed to know who he was before—

He turned, and she skittered to a stop on the floor, her heart pounding in her chest as her adrenaline caught up with her. Something like relief crossed his face. “Jesus, Carter, you shouldn’t sneak up on me.”

“Sorry, sir.” Falling back to formality was a comfort when she had so little idea of what was going on, and she found herself straightening to the proper position when addressing a senior officer. “What am I…?”

He smiled wryly. “I found you sleeping in my driveway last night—or, I guess, this morning. I figured my couch would be more comfortable than your front seat.”

“Did I—” Heat flooded her cheeks, and she broke off.

“Did you…what?”

She couldn’t meet his eye, though she figured it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. Air Force Captain shows up at her CO’s house late at night. Even if nothing happened, if this got out, it could ruin her career. Just like that damn virus almost had. But her CO had asked a question, and she would answer. “Did I do anything improper, sir?”

His eyes widened, and it would have almost been comical if it weren’t so damn embarrassing. “Oh. No. Nothing happened. You just slept.”

“Could you not…tell anyone, sir? I just don’t want people to think that I—I was just—”

“Don’t worry about it, Carter.” He turned back toward the pan on the stove. “I’m making an omelet. It has eggs and…beer.”

“I should head home, sir. I’ve already intruded for too long.”

He sighed and faced her again. “Sit down, Carter, and eat an omelet. You look like you need it.”

Sam thought about arguing, then decided that she really did want to eat an omelet and drink coffee in the Colonel’s house. Because at home she would be alone, and she didn’t think she could take that right now. Because it was only with someone else that she could tell what was real.

Because Jolinar didn’t know Colonel O’Neill, and so everything she knew about the Colonel was all hers.


End file.
